Thursday, April 4, 2013

[I've got a sneak peek for you today. Mutual Release by Liz Crowe is an intense BDSM erotic romance - just my style. And Liz is giving away some great prizes. See below. Enjoy! ~ Lisabet]

Can two dark souls ever make a light?

As president of her own distribution company, Julie Dawson has all she ever wanted -- money, power, and respect. But her carefully crafted façade conceals a torment of abuse and helplessness. After years remaining emotionally aloof, she is finally independent, but alone. Because she refuses to rely on anyone but herself ever again.

Evan Adams is no stranger to success, or personal demons. The horrific trauma that destroyed his twin sister, and tore his family apart, forced him to craft a new life from the ashes of the old. He's content enough, focusing ahead and not dwelling on his murky past. But something important is missing. He knows what that thing is but refuses to acknowledge it.

When a chance encounter brings these two strong-willed but damaged people together , what seems like a long, erotic journey through hell could lead them to a match made in heaven.

Excerpt

A
leather chair appeared from the gloom. Evan looked around, then took
the seat, disappointed but intrigued. He could hear Jack’s voice,
his laughter low and inviting. What the fuck? Was Gordon getting
in on action while he had to watch? Then he heard Jenna’s
annoying giggle and realized the club must be making her watch too,
only she got to do it with her date. He sighed, leaned back, and
prepared himself to be underwhelmed.

“No,”
a sexy, rough female voice broke through the clamor in his head. It
must have surprised everyone because all the people on the couches
glanced up. “I want him. Out here.” Evan looked straight at her
and saw the hot-as-shit Domme point her bullwhip right at him. He
gulped, actually looked around like a dork, thinking there must be
someone behind him. He was no sub.

She
crooked her finger, her ruby-red moist lips drawing his gaze and
making him feel positively hypnotized. His cock kept up its painful
pressure along the inside of his zipper. A drop of sweat formed on
his temple but he couldn’t move his arms to brush it away. All he
knew… was her.

“Mr.
Adams,” the disembodied voice said. “Your presence has been
requested by our Mistress. Please. Do not make her wait.” The sheer
curtain separating him from the crowd parted as he stood. Shoving his
hands in his pockets and no longer aware of anything at all but what
he wanted right now, he took the few steps down to the main floor.

“Stop!”
She held up a hand. “Do not come any closer until I tell you.”
She snapped her fingers. A tall man dressed only in leather pants
emerged from somewhere to her left. A woman approached him, smiling
and holding out a tray filled with… He stared, then shook his head,
backing away, his brain on fire and his body in flight mode. “Where
are you going, slave?” The woman cracked her whip. Evan sensed its
bite near his cheek.

“I
am no one’s slave,” he croaked out, sounding like a whiney kid.

“Perhaps.
But I am not just anyone.” Before he could catch a breath, the
woman was in his space. He kept his hands at his sides, knowing if he
touched her he would be punished. Her full lips were inches from his.
She leaned in, placed a tender kiss on his cheek, then stepped back.

“The
Mistress has chosen!” the voice boomed and the room heaved a
collective sigh. Evan whipped his head around, suddenly terrified and
hornier than he had been in his entire existence. He closed his eyes
as a loud whooshing sound started echoing around in his head in
perfect time with his heartbeat. He held his ground, biting the
inside of his cheek raw to keep from falling to his knees and kissing
his way up her shiny patent leather shoe. The woman stood, the
cape-like cloak draped around her tall, perfect body. He couldn’t
move and had no idea what to do now anyway.

She
took two long steps and was back in his space, tugging his tie,
lifting it free of his collar and letting her lips linger over his,
tempting, teasing, and bringing his body to full attention from his
scalp to his toes. What in the hell was going on here? He was a
sub? But the whooshing sound would not stop; it deafened him and
he started to shake. The woman put her hands on his shoulders and
kept kissing him just enough to make him insane. Disembodied hands
removed his suit coat. Then, with a powerful jerk, She ripped his
dress shirt into two scraps of expensive cotton that hung from his
wrists.

His
nipples hardened, his skin broke out in goose bumps. More bodiless
hands unfastened his cuffs and took what remained of his shirt away.
The woman kept smiling, trailing her fingertip down his chest. Evan’s
lungs hurt he was breathing so hard.

“You
are very…” She leaned in and touched her tongue to a nipple,
making him gasp. “In need of…” She licked her way across his
chest to the other hardened nub of flesh and bit, hard, making him
yelp and grunt to distract himself from coming in his trousers. “A
lesson in what it means to wield control.”

She
unfurled the whip, keeping her lips on his skin, licking and nibbling
her way up his neck as he stood, fists clenched and teeth grinding.
Then she bit down on his lower lip, bringing tears to his eyes and
yet more urgency to fuck. What was happening to him?

“Sit.”
She shoved him down. Evan dropped, hoping someone had put a chair
there. His ass hit leather and wood. Watching mesmerized as she dug a
sharp heel into his still-covered thigh. The pulsing behind his
zipper had reached a level he’d never experienced. It was as if he
were already coming, in his head, trying to relieve the pressure
without actually ejaculating. This was a total goddamn trip. He
sighed, looked up at the ceiling.

“Don’t
look away from me, slave.” Her rough voice made the whooshing sound
return between his ears. She snapped her fingers. Two nearly naked
women scuttled to his side, undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and
pulled off his shoes while removing his trousers, leaving only his
tie and boxers.

“Holy
fucking mother of… ah!” he cried out, unable to stop when the
woman stood over him, her warm, inviting sex right at his eye level.
Other hands rubbed, teased him through his underwear. But he kept his
eyes trained up as he sucked in a lungful of her heady scent.

“You
think this is all there is, don’t you, boy?” The woman’s voice
filled his head. “Your giant cock and what you can do with it.”
She stepped away from him, flicking her whip at his inner thighs,
breaking up the pleasure with a bite of pain that made him curse and
lean forward. The lovely, soft hands that had been on his aching
shaft disappeared. “Oh no you don’t. You sit; you take, and you
do not come. For any reason. If you do, I will make you very,”
she slid the handle of the whip along his reddened inner leg, “very
sorry. Are we clear? Dear?”

About the Author

Microbrewery
owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three
teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major
college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an
eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in
a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as
erotic romance author.

When she isn't sweating inventory and
sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or
sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.

Her groundbreaking romance subgenre,
“Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and
followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the
“WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is
nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft
beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of
breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate
offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk
painful injury.